Broken Road
by Stethoscopes and Pinards
Summary: Everybody needs someone, and sometimes it is the person you least expect. (Rubbish summary). Features Colette, Serena, Zosia, Dominic, Arthur and Guy (and probably others eventually)


**This was originally a oneshot with quite a different ending, but as it grew longer (I still don't quite know how it got to this length), I realised it was going to be a multi-part fic. I really hope this is alright :-) **

If anyone were to ask Colette what the nightshift nurse had handed over to her, she would be hard pushed to give an answer. As she stepped away from the small office, watching as some of her bleary eyed colleagues started to make their way towards the wards exit and their beds, she couldn't help but wish she was following behind them. She didn't dislike her job, if anything it was very much her job that she lived for, but today she was good only for curling her body up beneath a duvet and hiding from the world.

It was a mistake in the rotas that had led to her working this shift, that and a ridiculously high level of sickness which seemed to have rendered the hospital dangerously short staffed. She dreaded to think what the bill would be for agency given there was barely a single day which went by without an agency nurse or three on the ward. When that was spread across every ward in the hospital, it was enough to make her head spin.

She glanced down at the sheet of paper clutched in her hand. It surprised her to see that despite having paid so little attention, she'd somehow managed to scribble information in the boxes about the patients. She could, it seemed, get by on the nurses instinct she'd developed over the years, not that this was the best option for the patients. The patients deserved her running on full steam, but today they would have to get by with what she could offer.

* * *

"And to what do we owe this pleasure?" Serena cocked an eyebrow as she took in the sight of the young doctor stood before her. She'd not been expecting the daughter of their CEO, and she isn't altogether sure that it's a pleasant surprise. Although she hasn't yet stepped out on to the ward, she had worked the previous two days and was all too aware of how horrific it had been – a combination of too many patients and not enough staff to cope with them. And now she had to factor in the non to stable junior doctor.

"I'm working," There's an eyeroll from the junior that wouldn't have looked out of place in the face of a teenager. In fact Serena is near certain that Eleanor had grown out of giving her a similar look somewhere around her sixteenth birthday, and Zosia was a good ten years older than that now. It only served to show just how young the woman truly was.

"I was under the impression .."

"I am here to work," Serena's words are cut off by the indignant young doctor, whose face dares her senior to continue this discussion. Serena doesn't doubt that should this continue, the girl would stoop to the point of telling her father – despite their rather strained relationship. The likelihood of her actually going to the CEO was slim, she was intelligent enough to know that Serena wouldn't let it get that far, but the consultant wasn't really willing to test it.

"Then you'd better get yourself changed hadn't you?" with a final look up and down the girl, taking in the outfit that is more appropriate for a club rather than the journey in to work. She is almost tempted to sniff at the junior doctors breath to ensure that she hadn't actually arrived from one of the local clubs, but she contents herself with the visual signs of her sobriety.

The F2 heaves a sigh as though this is expecting rather too much of her, but she does stalk off in the direction of the changing room. Serena watches her go with a shake of her head. She cannot help but think she'd have an easier time if Eleanor and her friends were her juniors – and she knows all too well the trouble those girls can get themselves in too. Still at least she has more of a hold over them. Zosia on the other hand is something of a law unto herself.

* * *

"Who's in charge today?" Serena rests herself against the desk on the ward,surveying the ward around her. The agency nurse who is sitting behind the desk looks none to amused at having to engage her brain in order to answer the consultant. Although Serena is certain she had seen the brief brightening in the girl's eyes as she had taken in the shoes worn by the F2. They are quite inappropriate for work but Serena has decided to pick her battles carefully, and so she lets this slide.

"Erm …" The young nurse frowns, raising her head, in order to gaze rather half heartedly around the ward. She isn't entirely sure what the name of the senior nurse was, having heard it only briefly and now she feels the gazes of the doctor with the nice shoes and the older consultant whose shoes are much less enviable boring in to her.

"We haven't got all day," the doctor with the nice shoes speaks harshly, making her seem much less approachable to the nurse. She had been hoping to enquire about the shoes but now she is not so sure that it will go down well. The consultant at least tries to offer the nurse a smile, but even she seems frustrated.

"Zosia," Serena uses a warning tone to the F2, wanting her to calm it down. At least it shows the girl was paying a degree of attention, given Serena had feared she was just leaning against the desk, her mind having drifted off somewhere else entirely, "Can you describe who's in charge at least?" Serena wants to get ward round over with, and she needs the nurse to give her something of an overview. She doesn't doubt that this shift is going to see her run ragged and she wants to try to keep on top of things. Right now she is in danger of letting her control slip away.

"Dark hair, really wild like," the nurse smiles a little as she offers that little bit of information. The F2 seems to shoot upright at this, standing much straighter by the side of her senior.

"Colette" they both speak the name at the same time, but Zosia's comes out with an edge of surprise, rising to a question at the end. Whereas Serena seemed to sound a little relieved as she spoke the name of her colleague.

"That sounds .."

"It won't be Colette," Zosia says the words quietly, almost to herself but it is enough to stop the young nurse from finishing her sentence.

"And why wouldn't it be Colette?" There is a hint of surprise now in the tone of the consultant. It is rare for Zosia to show any signs of her personal history with Colette, and yet the way she had said those words had shown that it was more than just the knowledge of a fellow professional.

"I …" the F2 trails off, having caught sight of a familiar woman walking towards the desk, "Colette?"

"Sorry, I," the dark haired nurse falters slightly as she takes in the two doctors stood in front of her, she glances down at the fob watch hung on her chest and curses herself. She is late for ward round. She fumbles in her pocket for the handover sheet, hoping that she can at least muster enough knowledge about each patient to satisfy the medics. The F2 starts to speak, her mouth moving but no sounds come out and a subtle shake of the nurse's head seems to be enough to stop the movement.

"How about we get on with ward round," Serena breaks the moment between the two. She doesn't quite understand what is going on between the pair of them, and she isn't sure she wants to know. Chances are it'll involve some form of backstabbing and accusations from the F2 and a ream of denials from the nurse. Everything between the two of them seems to be twisted beyond belief.

"That sounds like a plan," Colette offers a smile as she leads the two of them too the far end of the ward, trying to dredge up the information she needs. Silently she curses Zosia for being here.

* * *

It seems like Serena is sending her off on stupid jobs, or that's what Zosia thinks when she finds herself treading the corridors of Holby once again in what feels like a wild goose chase. She hates the way they are treating her, like she cannot do her job properly. They act like she is nothing more than a child, and yet she has shown them that she is so much more than that.

"Zosia," She hears her name, but she doesn't bother to turn round. It's an instinctive reaction to ignore him now. They could be on relatively good terms and it would still feel wrong to turn when he calls her. It goes against the way she was trained herself to act.

"Zosia March," He tries again, his voice sterner. It is the voice of her senior, not the tones he had used to call her when she was child. She should know better than to allow herself to think back, to remember how things had been when she really was a child. Its almost inconceivable to think that the father and daughter that had existed then had evolved to this.

"Zosia Natasza," She pauses, before turning towards him. Part of her expects to see a smile on his face, but instead his face is hard, "What are you doing here?" he fixes her with a look she had feared as a child, but had rebelled against as a teen. It is a look designed to strike fear in to the hearts of those who work under him, but part of her wants nothing more than the laugh.

"Working," she answers, her voice devoid of emotion. She keeps standing tall before him, keeps her face blank.

"You are supposed to be on leave," He tries to soften his tone, but it sounds wrong to her ears. In his tone she hears the confliction between being her boss and being her father, and she cannot be certain which one is winning out right now. Either way she is sure it will not end in her favour.

"Dominic overslept," She shrugs her shoulders slightly, "I was up," she adds the words, sounding somewhat bored.

"And you think it's fine to just turn up at will?" He is shaking his head. He'd always thought his daughter would grow up to be sensible. He'd imagined that she would take Anya's best traits along with his, he'd imagined her flourishing and for so long it had seemed to be happening. Only now, looking at the young woman before him, he sees only the worst of himself present in her, "You are on leave Zosia, you have been declared not fit to be here and if I get word that you are still here in 30 minutes time then …"

"What you'll smack me and send me to bed without supper?" She cannot help but laugh bitterly as she says that, and Guy has to fight not to react to her words. Even when she had been really naughty, he cannot remember smacking his daughter. She had pushed him hard, at times he had felt his hand tingle ready to unleash that punishment on his daughter just as his father had done to him but never had he struck his child.

"Just go home, Zosia," He runs a hand through his hair, sounding much older than his years as he speaks those words. She rolls her eyes at him, but she doesn't protest instead she turns on her heel and starts to walk away from him.

"You'd best explain Ms Campbell why she's suddenly a doctor down then," she calls the words, not bothering to turn back to him, "and I'm sure Colette will be thrilled to see you," he understands that tone of her voice, that taunting that usually leads to yet another argument, but he cannot quite grasp it completely.

"Colette … here .." the words came haltingly and he hears the slightly pleased laugh that momentarily emits from Zosia's mouth before she stops it, "Zosia," he says her name once more and watches as she stops and turns.

"Your precious Colette is down there working," she narrows her eyes at him, watching as the emotions flicker across his face. They should have been there for her as well, but no it is only for Colette that concern shows in his eyes. Oh she isn't so heartless as not to feel for the nurse, but she cannot bring herself to feel as she once had done.

"But she …" Guy seems to have entirely lost his ability to talk coherently and that amuses her, though it fans the flames of her belief. There is so much more than he, or she, are willing to admit and now she can see it for herself. She is no longer a stupid child blinded by hero worship.

"You going to smack her too?" Her eyes are glinting, two cold stones in her rock hard face, "I'm not sure it's appropriate but maybe you two are in to all that," her tone is low and dangerous, and Guy feels that tingling in his hand. He swallows hard.

"Just go, Zosia," she can hear in his tone that he is disgusted with her. As she turns away from him, she has to swallow hard to rid herself of the bile that threatens to ride up her throat. She knows she has gone too far, but sometimes she cannot stop herself. This time as she walks away from him, she is determined that no matter what she won't turn back. She keeps going until she has made in through the door of her flat, somehow having collected her stuff from the locker room without any acknowledging her – or not that she had noticed. It's only when she finds herself shutting herself in the bathroom that she gives in, finding herself leaning over the toilet bowl and relieving her body of everything she has eaten.

* * *

Serena rakes her fingers through her hair as she tries to concentrate on what Guy is telling her. She had known, deep down, that Zosia shouldn't be here but she had never quite believed the girl would turn up when she wasn't supposed too. It begged the question of why Dr Copeland hadn't turned up when he'd awoken, if Zosia's story about him oversleeping was too be believed, but Serena is finding it hard to keep all of the threads in her mind. She cannot help but worry as to how she is meant to keep this ward running, when she is a doctor – even if that doctor is Zosia – down. She thinks she has heard Guy say something about getting her cover, but chances are that'll be a doctor dragged down from another department. She isn't sure she can cope without having a doctor who is far from informed when it comes to this ward. Knowing her luck she'll end up with Dr Tressler, or perhaps Guy will somehow get Dominic to put in an appearance. Serena sighs, she cannot quite believe she has found herself hoping to see Dominic Copeland.

"Have you been listening to me at all?" Guy asks, having noticed that glazed expression on Serena's face. She blinks rapidly as those words seem to make it through to her brain, and she fights her way back in to the present.

"Sorry," She says the word quietly. She knows there is little point in pretending that she'd been listening. He laughs lightly.

"I should be getting used to being ignored by now," Anya had been a master of it. Oh she had acted interested, but there would come a point in his stories where he would see that look pass across her eyes as she drifted away from him. Not that he could blame her half the time, many of his stories she had been there as well, on the fringes perhaps but there all the same. And he knew he was guilty each time of painting himself as the hero. It was Zosia who had hung on his words, she had listened to his stories with a hunger in her eyes and he'd embellish the details for her.

"You were saying?" She smiles, determined that this time she will keep herself in the moment. She knows Guy has been testing her. He has been unconvinced about her abilities to cope now that her mother is declining so rapidly and the increasing pressures that were coming at work. She cannot show him that she is anything less than the woman she'd been before – before Edward, before Adrienne, before everything. She had to show the world that she was still the Serena Campbell she'd always been.

"Zosia is not to be allowed to work," He fixes her with the look that tells Serena he is speaking as a father more than as CEO of the hospital, "not until she's strong enough to return,"

"And when will that be exactly?" She should know better than to ask, but as someone who is expected to work with the F2 it seems only fair that she should be kept in the loop. She, like most of the staff here, only know the basics of what happened. One of the benefits of having a father in such a high place has protected Zosia, even if it potentially puts Guy in danger should the truth ever come out. But Serena knows, she would do that same for Eleanor.

"I wish I knew," he lowers his head for a moment. When he looks back up it is the CEO, Serena faces and not the father. In some ways, she thinks he is lucky. At least his daughter is close at hand. He can monitor her. It worries her that she doesn't really know what is going on with Eleanor. They skype and occasionally Eleanor sees fit to come home but it is not the same. She struggles to wipe away the worry, of what is truly happening. But for Guy to see that downward spiral she has fallen in too, Serena cannot imagine the pain that must have caused him. No matter the nature of their relationship, she cannot comprehend how it would feel to be in his shoes. She hopes that should anything happen, Ellie would feel she could tell her. But she can't be sure anymore.

"I'm sorry," Even though it is no longer Guy the father in front of her, she says the words. If it were Ellie … no she shouldn't even let herself think of it. She has to force her mind not to recall the image of her daughter on their last skype chat, to analyse whether she was look thinner, paler or were her words slightly slurred as she spoke. Guy nods his head, acknowledging her words.

"Zosia mentioned Colette was working today," he tries to keep his tone even, professional. He is sure Serena would see through it though, she like everyone else knows of Zosia's suspicions. But she manages to maintain a solid pokerface.

"Zosia seemed surprised she was here," she answers him. She'd noticed that Colette seemed different. She was more distracted. Serena had watched her walk to the clean utility countless times, each time bringing back only one item before seemingly remembering that she needs something else. It's strange to see the practical Colette acting this way. It's disconcerting. Normally if Serena found herself working with the wild haired brunette, she looked forward to the shift. She didn't have to worry with Colette at the helm, and they seemed to work well as a team. But today she found herself having to keep an eye on the nurse, she has to be hyper-vigilant.

"Yes, well," He struggles to find the right words. Of course Zosia would be surprised to see Colette here, just as he was surprised. No one would know here, nobody knew in their previous jobs either. It had just been an unwritten rule that Colette would have 31st August off. He remembered how once Anya had tried to talk to her about it. He remembered how Anya had fretted beforehand, even suggested rota'ing Colette on 'by mistake' but in the end she had gone to talk to her. He never quite knew what happened that night, only that Anya had never raised the subject of Colette working that day again.

"Guy," He must have been guilty of drifting off as Serena had done. Perhaps he'd even missed some of what Serena had said but he doesn't know. He had been lost in thoughts of Anya, and how she had practically adopted Colette, bringing her in to the heart of their family. The days blurred in his mind, and he wondered now how much Zosia even remembered.

"Do you know where she is?" He doesn't bother to try to catch up on the conversation. He needs to find Colette, to check on her. He is certain that is what Anya would have done and what she would expect of him now. He doesn't know what he can say to her, he never has done about this but he can try at least. If things were different, it would probably be Anya searching her out, or even Zosia, but now there was only him.

"I've not seen her in a while," It's a realisation that startles Serena slightly. Come to think of it, she can't remember when she had last saw Colette on the ward. She tries to force her mind back, she had definitely walked in to a bay to check on a patient, but try as she might Serena couldn't recall seeing her leave. But she must have done, because Serena recalled seeing the patient's relatives slip inside the room and there was no sign of Colette there.

"If you find her …" he trails off. He doesn't know what he is trying to say and Serena seems to understand that. She nods her head. Guy tries to force a smile on to his lips, but it fails. He walks away in the direction of his office but when he thinks Serena has stopped watching, he turns tail and heads in the direction of the peace garden – hoping that perhaps Colette has gone there.

* * *

Zosia doesn't know how long she stays next to the toilet, but when her body starts to ache from holding that position, she forces herself upwards, making her way shakily towards her bedroom. She hates the way her neck aches, showing her body's weakness. Even when she is sick, which is what her body wanted, it betrays her. Everything is her own fault. If she didn't speak that way, she would not make herself sick. But she doesn't seem to have the control to stop herself.

She collapses down on to her bed, but she does not feel it's comforting embrace as she often does. Perhaps now she is so bad that even this, her usual source of comfort, is lost to her. She doesn't deserve it at all. She forces her eyes to close, wanting nothing more than to slip away from the world. She wants the blackness to take hold of her. Only it is not the loss of consciousness that she is faced with but instead she is forced backwards.

In her mind, she is no longer the 26 year old doctor but rather she is the five nearly six year old girl dancing around her parent's garden. She can almost hear the clapping from her mama as she twirled and leapt, pretending she was on a great stage and not the dry grass. She can hear Colette too, the laughter in her voice as she too cheers for this young star dancer. It is one of those things that happened so many times, but this is no faked memory. She cannot forget. The woman she thought of as her big sister had joined her on the grass, her face bright and happy. They had danced. Hands clasped together, as they span round. She remembered mama laughing, forever amused at the difference in height of the dancing pair but it never mattered to them. She had laughed too, and grinned when the two of them fell in a heap on the grass and Zosia had been rewarded with the warmest of cuddles. She was forever worming her way in to Colette's embrace, and now it was even more special. She had felt Colette's kiss on the top of her head, before they had resumed their standing position, and started to make their way back to Anya. Only then had Zosia become aware that her feet felt damp.

She forces her eyes to open, breathing fast and hard. She feels the five year old Zosia's confusion, and remembers how she had exclaimed without thought that her feet were wet. She wishes little Zosia would disappear from the room, that the memories would slip back in to the recesses of her mind. She was nearly five when she had first met Colette, on the day that her mother had bought her home. At first, the young nurse had been like a new toy, the puppy she had always wanted but then she had become more, and she could no longer remember life when Colette hadn't been there. Now she looks back, and she thinks she sees the looks passing between her father and the nurse, but then she had seen only her surrogate big sister.

She feels the bile rise in her throat once more, and this time she does not even bother to move from her bed. She was stupid to be blind to things then, she is just as stupid now. The acid burns her throat, but she savours the feeling. She deserves it. She lets it consume her, forcing it until she is aware of the sound of her door being slammed open – and only then does she realise she's been sobbing.

* * *

When it comes time for Serena to take her break, she doesn't head to pulses to get a drink or even to the sanctuary of her office. Instead, she finds herself slipping in to the darkened locker room. She knows that she should phone home to check in with her mother's carer but something stops her. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, the artificial glare of the ward lights causes stars to dance as she tries to make out shapes in the darkness.

It is only when a minute or so has passed that she is able to spot the one shape that is out of place. She has to hand it to the nurse, if you were ever to challenge her at a game of hide and seek she would be the most challenging opponent. Her body is pressed against the wall, curled up so tight, you could almost dismiss her for a bundle of clothes strewn aside by somebody who had changed in a hurry. Only Serena can make out the few tendrils of hair that have escaped from beneath the hood of the jacket she has zipped up, hiding her face almost completely. It is a wonder she had not overheated, but Serena warrants that is far from the nurse's list of priorities.

Slowly Serena approaches her. It is the caution she would use when walking up to a frightened child or animal. She kneels down slowly in front of the nurse, watching in her face for any signs that Colette has noticed her presence in the room but the nurse gives nothing away. Her eyes, for Serena can now see enough of her face, are cast downwards, looking at the floor though the consultant would guess she is seeing nothing at all. In the darkness, they sparkle.

"Colette," Serena speaks her name gently, the voice she had used with Ellie when she had been young and scared. When Ellie had been 6 she had run away from home, for a reason Serena could no longer recall, but she remembered vividly how she had found her daughter cowering in a neighbours shed and how she had used much the same tone in coaxing her out.

"I'm on my break," the nurse's words are dull and lifeless. She does not even turn to look at the consultant, but continues with her deadened stare towards the floor. So much of Serena itches to reach out towards the woman, but she is certain Colette would balk at the touch.

"Guy was looking for you," That at the very least seems to get a flicker of a reaction from the nurse. She raises her head ever so slightly, not quite meeting Serena's eyes but it is progress at least. Serena forces the smallest of smiles on to her lips, as though that may offer something to the younger woman before her.

The nurse squeezes her eyes shut, as she draws in her bottom lip, dragging it against her teeth. She releases it, as the coopery taste of blood hits her tongue. She can sense the older woman is poised next to her, ready to spring in to action if the situation requires it. Though what action that is, Colette is not sure, and she doubts Serena knows either. She is just hoping that instinct would prevail if needed.

She could answer. She feels her lips moving but she forms no words. They stick in the back of her throat, too many for her to swallow back down but too painful to be dragged forward on to her tongue and in to the air. She wonders how long it will be before the consultant disappears and leaves her, most likely running to Guy in order to give away her hiding place. She cannot face him any more than she can the consultant. With the CEO, she wouldn't need to speak. She could allow the words to continue to choke her, to prevent the flow of oxygen. But he would still have expectations of her.

The only person who ever knew what to do or truly understood was Anya. It was always Anya that she could rely on and now she was no longer here. She had watched as the death of her beloved friends had all but destroyed Guy and Zosia. The secrets and lies had truly broken their already fractured relationship and she had, had to bear witness to that knowing all the while how much this new reality would have destroyed Anya. In turn that would have wrecked the relationship the two women had shared, Anya on her deathbed had made Colette promise to look after the two people she had loved the most and now Colette knew her badly she had failed her friend – the one person she had always relied upon, she had let down so terribly.

Colette had never told anyone how much Anya's death had hit her. It had seemed wrong to show her own grief when she wasn't truly part of Anya's family, she didn't deserve the sympathy that they did but still she had struggled. She told herself each day that she had no right to feel as she did, that she needed to keep things normal as she felt herself slipping down the slope she'd long since thought she'd conquered.

It was one year ago today that she'd realised how far she'd fallen. She never knew why she'd done it, but she'd slipped round to the Self household. Since Anya's death, she'd found herself avoiding the building, hating the atmosphere without her there, but that day she'd been unable to resist. She should have stayed at home, curled beneath her duvet, but instead she had found herself watching as Guy drank himself in to yet another stupor. She had tried to block most of that night out, but now in the black of her eyelids she sees the images flicker. A horror movie playing out before her eyes, and she has to resist the urge to cry out.

"Colette" Somewhere at the very edges of her consciousness she registers the sound of someone speaking her name. There is an urgency to the tone, and her eyes dart open, her gaze dancing wildly about the room as she tries to reacquaint herself with her darkened surroundings. She feels her breathing coming fast and ragged, and she fights to regain control.

Her gaze finally settles on the face of the consultant, and she feels a sense of relief that it is still just the two of them in the room. She recognises the look of concern in the older females face, and she wishes she could wipe that away, to simply erase all of Serena's knowledge of what she had seen.

"I …" the nurse pushes the word forward, but she has no chance to finish as a tune – one far too bright and cheery for this dark room – fills the space and the consultant fumbles blindly for the phone in her pocket, cursing quietly. The music continues to blare out, filling her ears until she wants nothing more than to cover them over and block it all out.

'because I'm happy' over and over the words swirl around her mind. She wants to drag them out, twist them and rip them to shreds as they dance around. She wants to scream, but she cannot.

It is only when she hears the consultant's low voice that she realises the music had stopped.

* * *

Anya would have liked the peace garden. She'd always been so protective over their garden, and even when they had been looking for their first house together, it was the outdoor space that had been her priority. Guy had smiled when she had spoken about how she imagined them sitting together in the summer, watching as their – not yet conceived or even seriously considered – children ran about. She had big dreams of a little play structure and a tree house along with a patch of ground protected from the rambunctious children which she could call her own. Her eyes had danced as she described the flowers that she hoped one day to grow, and how she had always wanted to grow her own vegetables. He had adored that passion in her. It was like a drug for him to see her that way.

Their garden had never been filled as Anya had hoped with many children, and though Zosia had had friends, she had never been enamoured with the garden. She was not the outdoor loving child that Anya had desired but still they had enjoyed time there together.

It had been Anya's love of the outdoors, and her love of children, that had led her to creating the children's ward garden where they had worked together. He had remembered how breathless she had been with excitement when she'd come up with her plan.

She had just come out of her second battle with the disease that she had been so determined not to let win, and she had wanted to give something back to the hospital that had done so much for her. He had tried to slow her down, not wanting her to exert herself too much when her body was still weak but she had smiled and told him he was sweet to worry but that now she was fine. She had never wanted to be seen as anything less than strong and she hated being inactive – so not being able to return to work was proving difficult.

It was this project of hers that he credited with her return to health. He had watched as the light returned to her eyes, and how her smile started to fill her entire face once more. He never quite knew how she managed to bring her elaborate plans to fruition, but he had stood proud by her side the day the garden was opened for the children to use. He had seen how her eyes had sparkled as she watched children exploring the haven she had created for them.

He knew she spent as much time as she could in that garden. When the weather was good, that was where she would spend her breaks. The day she discovered the disease had returned, it was the place where he had found her.

After Anya's death, he couldn't bring himself to look at the garden. The children's ward staff had added a memorial to the women who had given so much of herself to that place, but he had been unable to attend. He had stood in his office, dressed ready to go but he never made it out of the door. Instead he had found himself downing one of the bottles he kept stashed away, and he would have worked on a second – and possibly a third - had Colette not found him.

Colette. He comes back to himself, and glances around the space. The nurse is nowhere to be seen within the garden, but he cannot bring himself to leave. For some reason, standing here he feels closer to his wife and he doesn't want to lose that sensation. He has felt alone for so much of the last sixteen months.

He closes his eyes, feeling the light breeze brush across his cheeks. Sometimes he doesn't know how Colette does it. The breeze tickles his ears like a whispered word. He has come to see only what he wants too. Anya would tell him differently, and should he look hard enough he would see it too. But he finds it easier to blind himself to the world at large, blurring the edges until the only thing clear is the bottle you clutch in your hand.

* * *

Dominic doesn't know what he is expecting to find when he pushes the door open to Zosia's room. Unlike Digby who would have knocked, and walked off if not invited inside, he doesn't even bother with preserving Zosia's right to privacy. He is more concerned by the sounds he had heard, than the chance of catching her looking less than decent. Still despite having seen the depths to which Zosia had sunk, he still finds himself shocked by the sight in front of him.

Though he is a doctor, it takes him a moment to push passed the acrid smell that seems to consume the room. He had heard her earlier in the bathroom, but now as he crosses the room in three strides he wants nothing more than to rip the hand clear from her body.

When she looks at him, it is with eyes that scare him. Wide and haunted, they are not the eyes of his friend but of someone he does not recognise. Reflected in those eyes, he sees damage so deep he has no clue of how to fix it. He cannot try his usual techniques. They only work on the flesh wounds, the damage which does not go much beyond the surface. He cannot offer her a sarcastic comment to drag her back to him, for fear he would only worsen what is before him. Nor can he run away and leave this too somebody else. He is so much a fair weather friend, but if he were to leave now he dreads to think what he would return too. And he cannot entrust Digby to sort this. Arthur is as useless as he when it comes to matters such as this and yet who else does this damaged being before him have? Her father? If he weren't so scared he would be stifling and laugh. No doubt he is the cause of much of this damage.

"They need you at work," her voice is distant. It is not truly her voice but some robotic imitation. He finds himself blinking rapidly as though trying to process this. Why she is still thinking of work he doesn't know and yet, she had been working today. She had told him, they had cleared her to go back to work but in doing so they'd swapped their shifts. Now he sees through what she had said but at the time he had not thought to question it. He had seen only the opportunity for a day of rest.

"I'm not leaving you," he swallows hard as he says the words. He would like so much to run and leave, but instead he comes closer, careful to avoid areas of the carpet, before he plants himself down on the bed next to her. She curls up, pulling her body further away from him and he frowns.

"Go!" Still that voice which is not hers but it is more forceful. She has turned her head away so that he can no longer see her face and that look. He is somewhat grateful, but he makes no moves to obey her order.

"What's happened?" The words sound hollow as he says them. How can he expect an answer, when in those eyes he saw a lifetime of hurt? He cannot expect her to tell him, her life story and he is not sure that he could stand to listen to it, yet he doesn't know what he can do beyond trying to puzzle out what has gotten her in to this state, at this moment. He knows it is getting to the point where he needs to take this further, but it feels like a betrayal to his friend and while he has betrayed people in the past, it was never in their best interests. Everything had been for his own benefits, but this is not a selfish action and he is unsure how to play it.

"Dom," she says his name as though it is alien to her. Beneath the robots voice, he hears a little girl, lost in a grown up world. It is strange to see Zosia as fragile, but he knows she has never really been able to grow up. Internally she is frozen in time, while her body continues to grow and the world around her expects her to act as an adult would only this Zosia cannot do that.

"I'm … here," he sounds unsure of himself. He places a shaking hand on her shoulder, trying to be a reassuring presence but he knows it may not come across as such. He feels as her body tenses beneath his hand, he swallows hard once more, "I'm here for you Zosia," he says the words again, trying to make them sound more convincing.

"You won't stay," he doesn't know if she is really talking to him, her head is turned in to the pillow, muffling her words. He frowns. He doesn't know how to respond to her. He doesn't want to make a promise he doesn't know how to keep.

* * *

"Eleanor," Serena's voice is sharp but exasperated as she once more says her daughter's name in to the phone. It is a far cry from the voice she had used when talking to Colette mere minutes – or at least Colette thinks it is minutes time seems to have no bearing for her anymore – before. She watches as the expression changes on the consultants face as she listens to whatever is being said on the other end of the phone. It strikes her that even in the moments when Serena looks at her most frustrated, there is still that look of love in her eyes.

"Darling, I really don't know what you expect me to do," Serena softens her voice. She flashes something that could be a smile in Colette's direction, perhaps meant as an apology for the interruption that the phone call has caused. She cannot realise how much of a relief it had been to Colette to have the attention shifted away from herself, but she had hoped the consultant would want privacy and would leave to have the conversation. That would have given her time to escape to somewhere, where she wouldn't be found quite so easily.

"No granny's fine, I just …" The consultants sentence is evidently cut off and she rolls her eyes ever so slightly but it is not enough to disguise the pain that lies beneath. In some ways Colette wishes she could hear what was being said on the other end. She wonders how much Serena's daughter truly understands about her grandmother's condition and whether she has accepted the quick reassurance from her mother. For the briefest of moments her thoughts wander to Zosia and how they had kept the truth of Anya's condition from her. In another time, another place, she would give warning to Serena but right now she is in no state too. And besides she has little right to advise anyone when it comes to parenting.

"Eleanor, I cannot just drive up to you every time you decide you've forgotten something," the exasperation is back in her tone, "I know it's important to you, but it's not just leaving your granny, I have work, I have …" she tails off, and Colette sees the look pass across her eyes as she fails to come up with something else that she has in her life. In a moment of selfishness, Colette cannot help but think that Serena is lucky to have one thing besides her work in that list.

"Ellie, I love you dearly but this is not the end of the world," her speech softens once again, and Colette finds herself swallowing hard as she listens. If she could she'd turn away and try to avoid hearing any more but she knows there is no escape. How many conversations must Serena have had like this? She seems to be well versed, taking each part of the conversation in her stride. Does she still treasure the moments when she hears her daughter's voice or does she simply go on with the routine of the conversation?

"Elean …. who is that there with you?" The consultant changes tact, and the look on her face changes as she is evidently straining to hear something in the background. As she continues to listen, she sighs softly.

"Els .." She starts to say something but then she drops the phone away from her ear, and places it back in to her pocket. There is no big finish to the conversation, no last I love you or any real goodbye. And in Serena's face there is no disappointment at the way it ended.

"Teenage daughters eh" There's a wry smile on the consultants face, "Who'd have them?" it's only then that she looks back at the nurse properly, and realises that there are tears slipping down her cheeks.

* * *

He knows he should speak. Dominic is haunted by the ticking of the clock in Zosia's room, and with each passing second the pressure to break the silence grows even higher. He has never liked silence. The feeling of discomfort as you wait for another person to speak because you don't trust yourself to speak the right words, or fear how what you want to say will be taken. This silence feels impossible. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing and send Zosia further down the hole in to which she has fallen but he also doesn't want to say something that he can be held too and at which he could fail.

He feels his hand starting to itch, the restlessness of sitting in the stillness. He forces himself to watch Zosia, to study the shallow rise and fall of her chest to ensure that she is still breathing. He watches as though he expects the stillness to consume her at any moment, dragging her completely away from him.

Everything about the room feels too small, and he feels like his is fighting for each and every breath. He had felt like this so many times before. The first he had been a mere fifteen years old, sitting across from his mother having found the courage to tell her that he was gay. He had struggled to get his words out, wishing desperately that she would take over and tell him that she already knew, but she had waited until somehow he had managed to spit the words out in a jumbled rush. He has no doubt that she'd known prior to this – the kids at school knew and gave him hell for it, and he had seen the way others looked at him, judging him on one small part of himself. Sometimes it had felt like he had a neon sign on his forehead announcing it too the world, even before he had come to fully accept and understand it himself. But his mother had just sat there opposite him, as though she was waiting for him to say more. He had sat listening to the tick of clock, just as he did now. Desperate for her to say something, anything, to display the sick heavy feeling that had settled on his chest.

Was that how Zosia was feeling now? Though her chest still moves, she is otherwise perfectly still. He could almost think she was asleep, but he knows her too well. She is too quiet to have slipped in to sleep. No, he knows, that she is waiting though he cannot be sure as to what. Perhaps she is expecting him to disappear from the room, taking each tick of the clock as a marker of the moment coming closer. Maybe she is hopeful of that happening. If he were too do that he would only be proving her right.

Aged fifteen, it had been he who had broken the silence. It was a pitiful attempt, the softly spoken 'mum' that he had managed to squeeze out from between quivering lips. He had been determined not to get emotional, whatever the outcome but in the moment he had felt his resolve slipping. He had watched her in desperation, waiting for a response, and then she had pushed herself up from her overstuffed chair, and he had hoped that she would make her way over to him, to place her arms around his body and tell him that it was going to be alright, that she loved him. He had felt his heart hammer in his chest as he had waited for the moment, with each step she took, he felt the hammering increase in volume until the beat of his racing heart filled his head. And then she was at the dresser pulling free a cigarette from the packet before she walked out of the room without a word. Leaving him once again in silence.

Zosia was like he was then. A child. Scared. Alone. He had changed in the years since that day, growing stronger. But he still felt it. Now in this room, he is back there and he can smell the smoke of his mother's cigarette choking him as it mingles with the smells in Zosia's room. He is torn between his past and his present, though he wishes to escape from both.

It had been three days later he was dragged out of his broken silent world. His mother had made 'the phone call' to her sister – his auntie Molly. He had heard through the thin walls as his mother had shared her woe – the loss of a white wedding and a daughter in law – for she had never quite got over never have a daughter of her own – and the fact that she would never become a grandmother and have grandchildren to dote on. He had listened to her voice as she begged for sympathy from her sister, desperate. In that moment he had hated her. She wanted pity for herself, with no thought for her son and what he was going through. It was Molly – arriving little more than an hour later – who had smiled at him before she had drawn his scrawny body against the bulk of hers until he was completely enveloped in the warmth of her embrace. He couldn't remember, even now all these years later having replayed the moment so many times in his mind, when either of them had spoken. He knew it had taken time, that she held him long before she uttered a single word.

And here is Zosia, so like a child before him. He can imagine her curled the same way in her bed as a youngster, with a thumb pressed against her mouth and a cuddly toy gripped tight. Her beloved mama would have been nearby, always. That was what Zosia needed now. He twists slightly, angling himself on the bed so that he comes up behind her curled figure, before he wraps his arms around her duvet covered body. She stiffens for a moment as he draws the bundled shape towards him, and then she relaxes. It's only when she shifts position slightly, he realises he's been holding her wrist, and feeling the beat of her pulse against his fingers.

* * *

The nurse says nothing as the tears continue to roll down her cheeks, showing no signs of slowing. In that quiet state, Serena isn't sure Colette is even aware of the streaks that now mark her face, or how her eyes have grown red. She reaches a tentative hand forward, unable to find the words to say what she needs too. With a careful sweep of her fingers, she wipes free a wave of tears. She swallows hard, recalling the last time she had made such a gesture. She had felt the skin of her mother's cheek against the tips of her fingers, the moisture from the tears she'd shed but try as she might she hadn't been able to force out the words to reassure the distressed woman. She'd lost herself in the moment, unable to cope with her mother's descent back through the years and the loss of her understanding of the present.

It was different this time with Colette. There had been no tears blocking her own throat, as she tried to right a situation she had no control over. Only now that she has thought of her mother does she have to fully fight against her own emotional response. She watches the flicker in Colette's eyes as she realises what Serena is doing. Perhaps she doesn't understand the gesture any more than Serena does, for she cannot recall having let herself get this close with a colleague before.

But Colette is different. It is a startling realisation, but she knows it to be true. She doubts she would have sat on this hard floor for as long as she has with anyone else, and she certainly wouldn't have let herself go enough to wipe away tears away from their faces. That was something she had reserved for those who were closest too her. Her daughter, her mother, Edward. She shakes her head slightly as though to remove the memory of her ex-husband. He had broken before her, apologising desperately for the person he had become and she, in a moment of weakness, had accepted it, wiping away those tears – tears she now believed to be crocodile – as she told him they'd try again. He had known her well enough to know how to play her. She had promised herself she would never be so stupid again.

She wonders how much Colette can see in her face. She is the master of disguise, hiding her pain beneath the pokerface, but here in the dark she wonders how much the mask has slipped. She has said little, but it would not surprise her if Colette sees more than Serena would like – just as Serena has seen beneath Colette's façade.

And then a shrill bleeping at her hip demands her attention. She draws breath and looks down to see where she is needed. She is still needed here, but she cannot be sure what use she is to the nurse in her conflicted state. At least on the ward, her hands will move on instinct she trusts, she cannot be so assured of that here.

She tries to speak as she moves away but no words come. She watches as Colette curls back away from her once more, slipping in to the shadows. Serena doubts she'll return to the ward, she doubts she'll still be in this hiding place should Serena return – and she knows she will have no choice but to try. As she escapes back out on to the ward, she can still feel the moisture of Colette's tears, the salty secretion burning the skin of her finger as she tries to push the nurse out of her thoughts.


End file.
